Page 27 of The Re-Proposal

Translation: none of our reliable partners wanted to give us cash so we need to raise our own.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that? Creating homeless shelters for vulnerable women is one thing. Helping them sustain their own businesses is a lot more… complicated.”

I find myself getting defensive. “We brought in business owners from the local community to do lectures. We chose our first clients meticulously, and we are more than prepared to make this venture a success—”

“Clarissa,” Nova touches my arm, “I didn’t say that to offend you. It was just my subtle way of hinting that I’m willing to be more hands-on if you need my help.” She ducks her head. “I’m sorry. My words tend to come out a little colder than intended.”

“No. I… it’s me. I just feel a little out of place here and I guess…” I don’t even know what I’m saying or even if admitting that to her is professional.

Nervously, I gulp down my champagne.

Nova gives me an understanding look. “If you’re not one for socializing, this—” she nods to the living room—“can be intense. But everyone here believes in what you and Do More have to offer.”

It’s not the socializing part that bothers me.

It’s the fact that they’re all so obviously wealthy, worldly and the total opposite of me. I bet Nova Harrisson never spent a night in a homeless shelter.

“Darlin’,” a tall man with a swoony Southern accent enters the kitchen and kisses Nova’s cheek, “you ready to head out? We’ve got that conference early tomorrow.”

“Right.” Nova sets her champagne glass down and glances at me. “You have my card?”

When I shake my head, she produces a fancy piece of paper with gold embossment. It smells like money.

“I’ll be in touch,” I tell her, hoping I sound more professional than I feel.

With a cool wave, Nova takes off with her tech genius husband.

Alone in the kitchen, I glance awkwardly at the party while gripping my empty champagne glass. Island is still in the living room with her family. She doesn’t look like she’ll have time for me right now.

Should I walk over there?

My stomach churns with nerves.

That ugly feeling of not belonging creeps up on me again and makes me nauseous.

Should I just leave?

“If you leave now, you’ll miss out,” a deep voice says. My eyes flash up to Cody’s.

He’s leaning against the counter, one long leg crossed at the ankles. My heart does a full Shakira, ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ imitation when he cocks his head to one side. “Island always stashes a few extra brownies for later. I know where she hides them at home and I’m pretty sure I can find them here too.”

I close my eyes for a moment to brace myself against his innate charm. Cody is gorgeous, and it’s easy to trust someone who’s attractive. Just ask Ted Bundy’s victims.

But I can’t forget that he’s evil.

Evil wrapped in a sexy smirk and green eyes and offering me chocolate.

But still evil.

And a liar.

And a heartbreaker.

And everything I need to stay away from.

Unfortunately, he keeps turning up everywhere today.

“I don’t want brownies from you,” I say coldly, drawing from a well of irritation.

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